That Hideous Sweater
by nealalalala
Summary: He never cared about what anyone wore before, but her sweater was just too hideous to not say something.


**That Hideous Sweater**

* * *

"Psst. Cook."

Sanji straightened from the basket that he had been putting his beloved and beautiful Nami-swan's tangerines from and spun his head around. Seeing only the bushy limbs of the aromatic fruit trees, he shrugged and made to pick another.

"Cook!" This time, a tangerine thrown at the back of his head followed the urgent whisper.

He jumped up with every intention of kicking the shitty marimo (because really, who else called him 'cook' instead of his name?) but froze when he saw said swordsman peeking around one of the trees, his muscular body barely hidden by the thin trunk. He raised a brow as Zoro used one hand to motion for him to come closer.

"What the hell, Moss-For-Brains?" Sanji asked as he suspiciously inched closer.

Zoro glared and uttered a loud, "SHH!" before grabbing Sanji by the collar and pulling him behind the tree, which was stupid because there was no way it would hide both of them. Why were they hiding anyway?

"What's going on?" Sanji asked, deciding to humor Zoro just the tiniest bit by lowering his voice to a whisper. "The fuck are you sneaking around for? You're not even doing a good job, by the way."

Zoro set him with such a serious look that Sanji was momentarily worried that something serious had actually happened. He mentally ran a checklist of what the other crewmembers had been doing. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper were fishing; he had seen them from his tangerine-picking spot just a few minutes ago. Nami was in her study, Robin was reading on deck, and his 'the ladies are in trouble' sense weren't tingling so they had to be fine. Franky was tinkering down in his workshop while Brook was also on deck plucking out a giddy tune on his guitar. Everyone was fine. Still, from what he remembered Zoro had been up in the crow's nest. Had the idiot spotted something dangerous?

For Zoro to be so secretive that he was sneaking around and whispering it had to be bad. Sanji swallowed and was about to demand and answer but the swordsman's sudden blush and rush of words stopped him. "How do you tell someone you hate their clothes?"

The cook's only response was an unintelligible, "Huh?"

Frustrated and probably embarrassed judging from his now entirely red face, Zoro growled and replied in a fierce whisper, "Clothes! How do you tell someone you can't stand what they're wearing?"

Recovering from his surprise rather quickly, Sanji snorted and quirked a cocky (and curly) eyebrow at Zoro. "You're asking _me_? Don't you usually just blurt out whatever the hell you want?" The blond didn't actually need to hear the reason because he knew. Any time Zoro got like this, (embarrassed, weird, stupider than usual) it always had something to do with his 'sweetheart,' Shiloh. (They had used that specific word for the pair as a joke because Zoro had been too embarrassed to say 'girlfriend,' but the term eventually stuck, almost like a fitting but very stupid nickname.)

Zoro visibly bristled. "I can't do that with Shy!"

Sanji resisted the urge to laugh. "Why not?" he asked with mock innocence.

The swordsman grabbed at his head with one hand, looking somewhere between uncertain and frustrated. "Because what if I hurt her weird girl feelings and upset her?"

"You know she's not easily upset," Sanji pointed out with a roll of his eyes. The redheaded young woman never even got upset when Luffy stole food off her plate. "And I don't understand why you of all people even care about what she's wearing."

Without a word, Zoro grabbed Sanji by the collar again and dragged him to the edge of the upper deck and gestured towards the grass. There was Shiloh, leaning against the railing of The Thousand Sunny, amiably chatting with Luffy who had yet to catch anything.

Sanji had to do a double take to really see what it was about the girl's attire that Zoro was so worked up about. The young woman wore maroon shorts and a mustard yellow sweater that was decorated with a rather large floral print. The flowers were deep purple in color, contrasting greatly with her long crimson hair that was thrown into a messy ponytail. The cook tilted his head. Her outfit wasn't as attractive as, say, his beautiful Nami-swan's with her skin-tight bottoms and flattering low cut blouse that showed off her gorgeous and ample bosom, but he couldn't find anything _hideous_ about her outfit.

"What exactly is the problem, Marimo?"

Zoro gaped. "Are you blind?! Her sweater!"

Sanji rubbed at his temple. His patience was wearing thin. "What about it?"

The swordsman made a wild gesture towards Shiloh and replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "It's a granny sweater."

Sanji finally let his laughter from before escape him, earning him a one-eyed glare from Zoro, which he ignored. "Oh man," the cook wheezed. "You really are stupid. Just so you know, Idiot Swordsman, floral prints happen to be pretty popular with the ladies right now."

"I don't give a shit about that," Zoro grumped. "It's still a granny sweater." The cook let out an undignified snort at Zoro's second use of the word 'granny.' It was just funny coming from someone who acted like such a tough guy all the time. "When I was a kid, there was this old witch in my village who wore a sweater just like that and she would yell and scream and pelt us with rocks if we so much as walked by her house."

Sanji couldn't help but double over again. "Poor Marimo!" He choked between breaths. "How tragic that the man who will become the world's greatest swordsman was traumatized by a little old lady in a flower print sweater!"

With a mighty shove that would have sent Sanji flying off the upper deck had he not grabbed onto a tree branch just in time, Zoro practically yelled, "Screw you! I'll just tell her, then!"

Sanji rolled his eyes. "Wait, Marimo." Zoro froze but didn't face him. "Don't. You should never tell a lady that you find anything she wears or does unattractive. Especially a lady you have feelings for."

Slowly, Zoro turned and Sanji didn't fail to notice that his eyes had landed back down below on Shiloh, not him. "But I fucking _hate_ that sweater." The swordsman's voice was about as close to whining as Sanji had ever heard.

The cook shook his head. "You're just going to have to man up and pretend you don't."

* * *

Zoro had tried his hardest the entire day to ignore the hideous mustard sweater but that meant he was also inadvertently ignoring the person wearing it. Shiloh caught his eye a few times, but all he could do was look away in an effort to not glare at the offending piece of clothing on her upper half.

God, it was _so_ ugly. How could she have chosen to wear such a thing? What irritated him further was the fact that he even _cared_ and _couldn't stop thinking about it_. What the hell was even going on with him? Since accepting the redhead's feelings and acknowledging his own, he had begun to experience new emotions he had never even fathomed could exist. Was this what it was like for the Shitty Cook? Did he _feel_ all the time? Who the hell could have so many feelings in their body without blowing up? He unintentionally spotted Shiloh drying some herbs for Chopper and the damn sweater caught his eye yet again. Zoro groaned. Was the damn thing a deal breaker? Was that even the right term? He shook his head. That was stupid. He wouldn't let Shiloh go for something as petty as a sweater. He was actually sort of fond of her. Granted they had almost nothing in common and she was way too honest and way too weird but… he kind of liked all that.

He blinked. Surely he could learn to deal with a single gross sweater, right? Chancing a glance, his mind suddenly filled with the memory of a graying and very tiny old woman with no teeth, cane raised as she chased him with almost all the way back to the dojo.

The sweater had to go.

* * *

"Hey."

If he were less of a man he would have turned tail and run the moment Shiloh had met his gaze. The redhead offered him a grin and a cheery, "Hey," in return. She put down the rag she had been using to wipe the table and counters in the galley. Zoro absently looked around, noting the strange absence of the cook in the room. He was usually getting things ready for their next meal while the redhead cleaned. Shiloh's voice recaptured his attention. "Did you need something?"

"Uh…" He could have kicked himself for sounding so stupidly unsure. Clearing his throat, he tried to make up for it by firmly stating, "I wanted to tell you something."

His overly serious tone made the redhead giggle, causing his resolve to very nearly fly out the window. She wouldn't cry if he told her, right? She wasn't that sensitive, right?!

Shiloh gave him a small nod and casually leaned back against the counter. "What is it?"

Again, he felt his tongue tie itself into a knot. "I, um… Uh, well, there's… y-you see…"

The redhead let out a laugh. "What's gotten into you?" God, he honestly had no idea. "You sound like Usopp."

Okay, _that_ was insulting. He may have been having a hard time forming words but it wasn't out of _fear._ Roronoa Zoro was _not_ a coward! Frustrated and now a little annoyed, the words fell from his lips before he had a chance to even think about swallowing them. "I hate your sweater."

 _Oh shit!_ Zoro felt his cheeks burning, but to save face he kept his expression as stoic as possible. Wait, was that bad? Should he try to look more sympathetic? How was he supposed to do that? Was he supposed to relax his facial muscles or something and if so, which ones?

To his surprise, Shiloh merely blinked and replied calmly, "Oh." Zoro stood rooted on the spot, not really sure what to make of the redhead's short and very neutral response. Her amber eyes met his, but he didn't see even a hint of anger in them. "Is that all?"

"Uh… yeah…?"

A short silence followed, during which Zoro began to feel incredibly uncomfortable at Shiloh's unflinching gaze. He wouldn't look away though. To do so would mean he admitted defeat and he would never do such a thing. Finally, the young woman shrugged and said, "I happen to really like this sweater."

He probably should have just accepted that, considering that the girl _wasn't_ angry or crying or something equally as hard to deal with, but the swordsman just couldn't get past his hatred for the damn piece of clothing. "It's a granny sweater."

Shiloh's lips formed into an amused grin. "There's nothing wrong with grannies."

Zoro let out a snort and crossed his arms. "Sometimes there is. There was one who used to throw rocks at me and chase me down the street when I was a kid." He gave Shiloh's top a disdainful look. "She wore a sweater just like yours."

The redhead giggled. " _That's_ why you hate it? Because it brings back bad memories?" Not appreciating Shiloh's amusement, Zoro chose not to answer and instead found a spot on the wall to glare at.

His attention was brought back to Shiloh when he felt a small hand on his arm. A blush began to heat his cheeks at the girl's smirk and sultry gaze. Confusion warred with curiosity. What the hell had gotten into her all of a sudden? Was she messing with him or was she just luring him into a false sense of security so she could hit him for insulting her attire? Zoro mentally rolled his eyes at himself. Of course Shy wouldn't do the latter; she wasn't Nami.

"Shall we make a better one then?"

"Huh?"

Never in his life would Zoro forget the sight of Shiloh grabbing the hem of her hideous mustard floral print sweater and lifting it (and the shirt underneath) up to flash him.

* * *

It was a few days later that Sanji was hanging up their laundry to dry when he happened upon Shiloh's sweater in the pile. Turning his head, he noticed Zoro lifting another one of his gigantic weights and called, "Oi, Marimo!"

With a loud crash, Zoro dropped the weight in favor of crossing his arms and sending the blond a glare. "What do you want, Curly Brow?" Sanji gestured for him to come closer, which, with an eye roll, he grudgingly complied.

Holding up the damp article of clothing, Sanji replied, "It's the sweater."

Zoro huffed. "And?"

"Well," Sanji began with amused smirk, "Since you hated it so much, I figured I'd give it to you and you could… take care of it. Of course, I would never dare suggest such a thing if it was any of Nami-swan's clothing but since your tiny brain can't get past this little thing I thought I'd help you out."

The swordsman frowned. Sanji could swear he saw the other man blush a little. "I'm not doing that, Stupid Cook."

Sanji laughed. "What, are you scared? Afraid that little Shiloh will get upset with you?" He teasingly dangled the sweater over the side of the deck. "Want me to give you a hand?"

Before he could even blink, Zoro had him by the collar and dragged him away from the edge of The Sunny. His unscarred eye glowed with an angry flame. "Don't you dare," he growled darkly. "Hand it over." The green-haired man didn't even give him a chance to deny the order. The clothing was snatched from his hand as Zoro promptly strode over to the clothesline and hung it up himself.

Sanji raised a brow. What the hell? "I thought you hated that sweater?"

This time, he really did see it. There was a deep, strange, and undeniable blush on Zoro's cheeks.

"I fucking _love_ that sweater."

And with that, Zoro stomped back over to his weights and resumed his training, leaving an incredibly confused Sanji to finish hanging up the laundry. The cook shook his head as he glanced at Shiloh's sweater swaying gently on the line. Had the idiot actually taken his advice? Sanji snorted. Probably not. It had to be something else. Well, whatever. "Stupid Swordsman."

* * *

 ** _a/n_**

 _Thanks for reading, reviewing, and favoriting!_

 _If you would like to know more about Shiloh, please read: "Straight Forward" located on my profile._


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